


This is not our fate

by risinggreatness



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(2/2 Mandalore War) Mandalore’s war is not over; Bo Katan and Death Watch wreak another wave of havoc on the galaxy (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is not our fate

“The last Republic ship’s left the system! We’ve driven them out!”

Bo looks to the sky, eyes narrowed. They hadn’t even been fighting the Empire’s successor that hard – rooting out traitors among their own came first.

The interloping government and its Jedi pawns are up to something.

Undoing Vader’s damage will take time. Vizla wasa fool for trusting him and she was coward for running and for not staying to fight the Sith’s regime nearly three decades earlier.

Purging the traitors is her first act of long overdue penance.

The day Vader landed, Death Watch lost the sword they stole from the Jedi Temple centuries before and they lost their planet, though they lost it even decades before.

But they did not lose their pride.

A young soldier runs up to her, “What do we do now, sir?”

Bo’s eyes come back to the earth, her Mandalore, and the remains of the retreating army’s camp before her.

She spits.

“Same as before. Then, we move forward.”

\----------

The medical bed is too small for all three of them, but Leia and Prestor must remain there for a few more hours and neither she nor Han will lose a precious second, making up for the months they’ve lost.

She’s almost forgotten what it feels like to have Han wrapped around her. The baby gurgling in her arms is entirely new; she adjusts to reaching to Prestor with the Force beyond her.

The mattress creaks as Han rises to stretch, to pick up Prestor himself. Leia rolls onto her back to watch her husband and son.

Han’s thinner ( _military rations are only so nutritional_ ), tanner ( _months in the desert will do that_ ), and if Leia’s not mistaken…

“Is that a limp?”

“It’ll be fine – I mean it’s nothing. Luke didn’t _say_ anything, did he?”

Six months absence does not soften or lessen her anger, though she keeps an even, annoyed tone, “No, Luke did not say anything. You can’t immediately blame the Force or Luke for your inability to tell me what’s happening in your life, especially when you’re across the galaxy fighting an army of psychotic murderers!”

Han speaks in a low, frustrated growl, “I didn’t want to upset you and besides, you were the one who insisted I leave and fight –”

His rant is interrupted midway by Prestor crying. Before Han can calm him, the cries turn to small screams. No amount of rocking and shushing puts a stop to Prestor’s distress.

Han looks up in panic; Leia feels for him and puts her hands out to receive their son.

Gently, “Give him back, he’s hungry.”

Prestor greedily holds to her; she brushes the tear streaks off his cheek.

Han sits on the bed. He is close enough to lean against her ( _or her against him_ ), but stares at the ground instead.

“Well, Pres’s got an idea of what it’s like living with us.”

Leia wants to huff back “no kidding,” but doesn’t.

Instead, “I’m sorry I told you to go. It wasn’t fair.  I made you miss everything; the pregnancy, Prestor’s birth. I thought we really could do this: that getting rid of Death Watch would be one less thing to worry about when raising him.”

Han looks up; Prestor hiccups.

Voice finally wavering and breaking, “And I’m glad the Senate made the decision to withdraw. I don’t care if it makes the New Republic look cowardly or it sets a bad precedent. I can’t lose you.”

Or Luke. Or Chewie, or Ahsoka, or Lando, or Mara, or any of their friends. ( _There have been too many already._ )

Han clears his throat, but his voice betrays him. “Hey, I’m sorry I missed it too, but I thought the same thing about Death Watch. And don’t worry about the leg –” he laughs weakly, “I still managed to sprint a few thousand yards at Katan, then even further back in retreat. Ask Jade about it.”

Slightly disgruntled, he waves a frustrated hand, “There – I got that out before she said anything, and before you and Luke talked telepathically about me being an idiot for getting shot. I don’t care about looking like coward. You know I’m best at running away.”

Han speaks to Leia, but looks only at Prestor. Leia cannot tear her eyes off Han.

He really is back. It’s been so long.

Smiling, “Yeah, but for some reason, you like to turn around and come back.”

They kiss over a squirming Prestor.

\----------

Master Luke is mostly interested in meditation these days.   There must not have been much time for it between battles.

“Master Leia is very impressed with your progress in your sparring practice.”

Set swells with pride at the praise, both Master Luke’s and Master Leia’s.

“I really like training with Master Leia.”

Her perspective on the Force is unlike anyone else’s.

Master Luke laughs, then Set realizes what he’s said too late. “Not that I don’t like training with you!”

“I’ll just have to work on making my lessons more interesting, won’t I?”

They’re brother and sister: there’s something the same about the way they teach him, for all their differences.

Although he sees his parents and brother every so often, Set wishes Kier was training too. It’d be nice to have someone his own age to learn with. Jiro comes back to the Temple, then Seddwia, but no other padawans. It gets lonely sometimes.

And there are the whispers.

“Do you think there’s going to be a war with Death Watch again?”

Master Luke looks him in the eye, “Death Watch has been left unchecked, it’s certain the war from before will continue.”

“Are you and Master Ahsoka and Master Mara going to fight again?”

“Most likely.”

Which means he’ll be left behind again. Set knows he’s too young and being a Jedi knight of old is different from being a solider for the New Republic, but he can’t help but want the stories his parents told him.

“Leia wouldn’t go though – too much to do in the Senate.”

“Master Leia said, when he’s old enough, I could be Pres’s master.”

“And you will be a fine master in a few years. But neither of us are being very good students of Jedi doctrine right now! Meditation with Master Yoda never had this much talking!”

Set smiles and squirms back into a comfortable position, reaching out to the ever-present Force.

\----------

Luke shifts slightly in his sleep; Mara rouses. Maybe she was already awake.

The constant, low-level din of Coruscant is different from the eerie silence of Mandalore. She used to sleep to the hum of the endless speeders and craft liftoff and touchdown. She couldn’t shut her mind off when it was only a faint wind. Now the city’s a racket that drums in her head.

There is a restlessness in the apartment tonight.

She creeps out of bed quietly. The sky is still dark, what passes for dark on Coruscant. Day is hours away. Mara can’t spend the evening staring out the window; she moves to the shared living space to see if she can get some work done. She’s not the only one up.

Leia stands – more accurately, handstands in the center of the room – lifting chairs, the table, and all manner of objects in the air. She slowly lifts one hand to balance solely on the other.

“Sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Leia asks, not breaking concentration.

“No, I think I was already up. I’ve slept like crap since I got back.” Mara sits in one of the few seats unused in Leia’s exercise.

It’s near the window; like looking over a precipice.

Mara looks back at Leia, “What are you doing up? I thought you’d be getting every spare second of sleep you could.”

The furniture begins to lower, “Pres had us up an hour ago. Han went back to bed. This is some of the only time I get to train by myself these days.”

Guilt prickles, and Mara rises, “I’ll go back then, let you get back to training.”

Back to staring at the ceiling, back to feeling Luke breathing beside her.

Putting both hands to the ground, “No, no! Stay, I don’t mind the company! Besides, I should be getting back to bed soon. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow I haven’t been looking forward to.”

Mara raises an eyebrow. Leia so rarely offers a disapproving opinion of the New Republic’s senate; she wants to hear more.

Leia dismounts from her handstand; sits cross-legged on the floor. She gives Mara an appraising look; Mara does not back down.

“The Senate understands their failings in fighting Death Watch, but cannot see why sending more Jedi will make things worse. Some days I agree with them, some days I don’t. Bo Katan is going to give the galaxy hell and I don’t want to see it suffer just because she doesn’t see the distinction between –”

There is a long silence.

“I wish I could have been there to help the first time.”

Mara shakes her head, “Don’t worry. Your work in the Senate helped in as many practical ways as battle strategies could. And Pres is more important. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”

Mara never had patience for children before Set. But now sometimes finds herself spontaneously playing with the infant who lives in the same apartment.

“Well, I’ll be there next time.”

Leia speaks in a way Mara does not doubt her.

They retreat to their respective rooms.

Mara sidles up to Luke. When she thinks sleep has finally found her, Luke speaks. “Do you get the sense it’s going to be worse? The inevitable next war.”

Mara looks out the window one final time. She shivers.

\----------

It is profane the capitol remained Sundari for so long. Practical, yes. The size and resources and its relatively undamaged state after the assault by the Galactic Empire meant there was little work to be done in rebuilding infrastructure.

Just the way the Empire wanted it.

Bo prefers the ancient, run down, forgotten, City of Bone.

Death Watch did not forget; passed down from generation to generation, the old ways remembered. Blood for blood, Mandalore as it should be, as it will always be.

And they have the ships they need. The New Republic will regret they ever sent a single soldier to their system and for every Jedi they sent, another system will pay out the dearer.

She says as much in a private meeting and then laughs. Death Watch will take the galaxy, regardless. Ghes speaks of cautionary measures; they have waited this long for home. Spar, in a rare moment of agreement ( _damn him_ ), notes overreaching will only mean the New Republic will come after them tenfold.

The Republic, the Empire – they’re weak. The Jedi, Vader – Death Watch does not need lightsabers or the Force to prove the superior warriors.

Bo is certain by the end of this all: City of Bone will be rebuilt.

\----------

Organizing group training is easier than Ahsoka expects. Although hierarchies emerge in the groups that splinter off, all are teachers and all are students. The new, looser Order feels more natural. The goodness in the Force she sensed the day she returned to Coruscant is nothing to the new pulsing love throughout.

She steps away from Ona, Bant, and Inyon, laughing over their early attempts with practice lightsabers.

Luke, Mara, and Chase come from the direction of the western hall, all grim-faced. Luke makes a small beckoning gesture, and the four of them step into a retaining room off to the side. The other four from the old days are already assembled.

A holo is clicked on, blue image of Leia springing from it.

“Katan’s at it again,” she says.

Ahsoka’s stomach sinks. Unsurprising, but a year was so short a time to be away from the battlefield. She has fought in war nearly all her life and she is tired. She is ready to settle for teaching.

“And what’s the New Republic’s battle plan this time?”

Jiro speaks up, “At this point, there isn’t one.”

“What?”

Mara cuts in, “They weren’t happy with their lack of success last time and have been spending a little too much time looking over history holos. They want us to go. Alone.”

Just Jedi. But there are so few of them. Gods, only three of them went last time, they aren’t getting many more this time either, even if they consider sending the teenagers with some training. ( _Mara will rail. They all will rail._ )

“Leia are you –”

She shakes her head, “No, they claim I’m too essential in keeping an eye on interests in the senate –” Mara rolls her eyes, “which I _am_ , no matter how much I want to be there with you all. And there’s Pres.”

She makes her last point with less certainty.

“It will be a stretch, but we may be able to effectively neutralize parts of Death Watch. If we make enough of an impact, swiftly and decisively, we can get the senate to send New Republic troops out again and Leia with them. It won’t be too unlike the old days during the Clone Wars, right, Ahsoka?” poses Jiro.

Ahsoka nods slowly. It’s not what he wants; it’s not what she’s come to want, but no one will rest easy until Death Watch is gone.

She looks to Luke, silent throughout it all, “What do you think of all this?”

It mostly makes her sad how he can remind her of Anakin at his grimmest of times. She watches as he glance to the holo of Leia, to Mara, then back to her.

“We have to do this. There’s no other way around it.”

\----------

Saw can talk all he wants, but before coming to Mandalore almost two years ago, Ahsoka hasn’t been involved with a large scale assault since the Clone Wars. Tanks and droids were difficult, in their way, and then there were stormtroopers.

The difference is Death Watch puts up a real fight. Faster draw, faster punches, and tougher to take down.

Their armor only gives way some as bones crack and bodies fall. She remembers to flinch away in time to avoid being shot.

( _Two years ago, Han yanked her away in time, though she burned her arm._ )

Ahsoka’s knuckles are bloody, because these soldiers of Death Watch have learned. ( _Don’t let the Jedi fight far away, where they’re safe and aloof with their precious lightsabers. Make them come down to our level._ )

And this whole New Order’s been down there and then some.

The woman Ahsoka wrestles with has a weak left wrist; Ahsoka keeps favoring her own right to not let the Mandalorian get the advantage. Somehow the Mandalorian’s other hand flashes past her and goes for her untended lightsaber. Ahsoka knees her in the gut before she can think of anything else to do, and puts her hand to the cool metal hilt.

All armor seems to be designed to be weak at the neck.

Her personal scrape over, she reabsorbs the world around her, blaster shots and shouts directed at her fellow Jedi, Katan among their numbers.

( _Han joked he had a playful game going with Katan, as they chased each other across the desert. Perhaps they did, but the Jedi do not have the same luxury General Solo does where Bo Katan is concerned._ )

They need to get out – again. Not for good, but to the ships. The system is lost to them, just as Mandalore was before.

“Let’s go!” yells Luke, somewhere in the distance.

They do not need to be told twice.

\----------

Bo has no intention of staying in Sundari.

Now in ruin, there’s nothing for it; she merely passes through. Unthinkingly, she diverts her course, into the rubble and shards of glass. To think she spent her earliest years in this city.

Nothing is distinguishable from anything else anymore, but something catches her eye. A hilt, lodged under a metal beam. ( _All these years and Vader simply left the thing there._ )

She frees it from its resting place, hooking it next to her blaster. It doesn’t belong to the Jedi or the Sith, it belongs to Death Watch.

Back at the base, Ghes suggests she learn how to use it; to turn it against the Jedi.

“Vizla did and Vizla died.”

“Vizla was an idiot.”

He’s appealing to her ego, but there is power in the coursing, pulsing through her whole body when she ignites it.

What it would be to take them all down, one by one.

\----------

Single-pilot fighters make Mara feel claustrophobic. Her knees bang under the console and the seat lurches forward when the craft takes hit from behind.

Still, they’re necessary instruments to drive Death Watch out. They’re looking for hand-to-hand combat, and the Jedi have to take that away from them as much as possible.

( _Sentimental Luke tried to liberate an X-wing, Ahsoka and Jiro eyed antique ships that must have last flown when Mara was two. Mara bites her tongue, though the advantages of the captured Imperial ships are obvious. Leia, thank the gods, mentions a model that’s Imperial tech with Republic plating._ )

Mara blows through one – two – three – four – five Death Watch pilots before her brain catches up with what she’s done.

She’s surrounded, with all of Death Watch’s attention diverted to her.

A million curses run through her head. She exhales and aims the nose of the ship for the thin gap between the two closest enemy fighters. ( _Just so long as they don’t panic and swerve into each other, she might have a shot at this._ )

Do or do not.

She throws her foot on the acceleration. Clear of the first ships, she weaves through the next three then dives down, but they are hot on her trail.

One sharp turn and she can break free – make a run for home and live to see another day.

Her concern for the ships behind her makes her miss the oncoming one. It scrapes over top her by inches, shooting her pursuant down.

“Come on!” Seddwia yells over the comm.

Safe on hanger of the small freighter, Mara uncustomarily throws her arms around Luke in front of the others.

“Pulling a stupid stunt worthy of a Skywalker?” he whispers in her ear.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been a bad influence these past few years,” she whispers back.

Neither lets go for a while.

\----------

They find the old man in a hollowed out tree when they claim Corsin as their own.

He is pathetic. It’s not his thin face or his tattered uniform ( _Bo scoffs in front of him; it’s a uniform that means nothing to anyone anymore_ ), but his very soul. He begs on his hands and knees to her, asking for restitution, for his life.

“Justice demands we kill him,” Spar reminds her.

She doesn’t need the reminder, and frankly, Spar’s vision of justice irritates her at times.

( _But his end result isn’t wrong._ )

Ghes keeps his blaster trained on the man, awaiting orders, ever faithful.

The man’s voice is ragged and high-pitched in panic, desperate in his last seconds, “I have information – information no one else knew about Skywalker and Vader!”

This bores Bo.

“Yes, yes, we know Skywalker killed Vader, it’s all terribly heroic, the Republic can’t keep shut up about it and now it seems Skywalker wants to kill me.”

The man’s panic flickers to an almost confusion.

“Skywalker killed Vader? No, they always said it was the other way around – but it’s not true!”

Ghes shifts his weight on his feet; if Bo lets the ex-Imperial go on any longer, Ghes might just accidentally shoot him before her say-so.

Carelessly, “The first Skywalker wasn’t killed by Vader? Now there’s a story no one’s bothered to spin, although it might explain why there’s a second on my ass.”

Whatever small amount of courage the man-creature has left rallies and his next words are steadier, though he still spits them out rapidly, before Bo can make her decision, “The Emperor had reasons – he always had his reasons, but Anakin Skywalker _became_ Vader. Skywalker backed some decision and then it got obliterated from the record – like Skywalker needed to go for Vader to happen –”

“He’s lying,” Ghes spits.

“Does it matter? We leak something like this in the Republic’s ranks, they go ballistic and eat themselves alive; Skywalker loses credibility, the Jedi lose credibility – hell, do we even know if Vader is _really_ dead?” shrugs Spar.

Bo says nothing, just looks the man in the eyes. Then kicks him in the shoulder, pinning him down with her foot. Lie, truth, or utter delusion, the look in his eyes does not change.

She looks to Spar and Ghes, awaiting her word.

“I trust only you two to deliver this to the right channels. Leak it right and this is will be the first step to bringing down the New Republic.”

Ghes turns to leave, but Spar indicates to the prone man on the ground.

“What about him?”

Information in hand, he should be useless to her, to them. She’ll shoot him and that’ll be an end to it.

She lifts her foot off his chest and shoulder; he pants and wheezes, taking in shallow breaths. “I need you alive for now. But if the New Republic doesn’t buy this story of yours, you’re dead.”

She looks to stock-still Ghes and Spar.

“Go!” she barks.

Something, deep inside her even believes the story’s true.

\----------

Death Watch’s ion cannon’s pound at Bandomeer’s emptied civilian buildings. Rock and dust stream down in the atmosphere, already thick with pollution and rain.

It takes reaching out with the Force to know where the others are, to know where the nearest Mandalorian opposition is.

Luke finds a cannon; kills the gunner and disables the machine’s assault on the town. It’s a clinical approach and only seconds later does he remember Hoth. ( _He was a lot more jittery then._ )

Out of the shelter of the gunner’s port and back into the dust and rainstorm, Luke practically runs into Kai and Aven.

“What are you doing out here?! What’s happened back at the base?!” he shouts over the winds.

“Come with us.”

No shouting, no details. In their somberness, flashes of fear strike Luke. Who is in danger, what has gone wrong?

Feeling the urgency, Luke runs. Kai and Aven follow.

It can’t be Mara or Ahsoka or any of them here, they are near; they would sense it. The greatest fear abroad is for Leia. Because he feels nothing, it must be her and all the dread pushes him to run faster.

Jiro and Chase lurk in the edges of their dark headquarters; Kai and Aven seem to keep their distance now they’ve returned.

“What’s going on? Is anyone going to explain this?”

“We were hoping you would,” says Chase.

“We’re waiting until the others get back,” Kai hastily interjects.

It clicks. What Luke and Leia dread the most has finally caught up to them. It was only a matter of time someone else in the universe remembered and spoke up.

Luke throws himself back to the meditation he did alone on Dagobah. When he was alone and uncertain of his place and when Yoda gave him no answers. Though he has support he did not have then, he is alone. He’s older, a bit wiser, and while the truth doesn’t terrify him anymore, nearly everyone else cannot stand to look at him.

Ahsoka is stony-faced upon return; Mara bewildered. Seddwia looks as suspicious of the others in the dark.

Aven braves speaking, “There was a call from the senate. There’s a rumor out there, they think might be fact: Anakin Skywalker didn’t kill Darth Vader; he became him.”

Luke says nothing, waiting for the blade to fall, for the epithets and condemnation to begin.

Given no opposition, Aven continues, “If it’s true, the Senate wants to remove you from this mission immediately, bring you back to Coruscant for questioning.”

Questioning isn’t so terrible, when considering the other things he was told would happen when he embraced the shifting specter of Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker as his father.

( _It could get worse, but Leia and the others won’t fall as far with him_.)

“I should have told the rest of you sooner.”

There is a collective shudder through the room. He looks to Mara and Ahsoka. ( _I’m sorry; Look after yourselves; I love you both._ )

“It is true,” breathes Jiro.

Luke’s focus slips, as it did on Dagobah. It goes to lightyears away, where Leia must be receiving the same news. Thank gods for small mercies; almost no one thinks the name ‘Leia Skywalker.’

( _And hopefully, no one will see their brief joint attempt at bringing Padmé Amidala back._ )

“Yes. From all accounts, the old Order had many reasons to distrust Anakin Skywalker. There’s your proof.”

“You two knew already?” asks Aven incredulously to Mara and Ahsoka. They only offer nods.

“When did you know the truth?” Jiro asks.

“He told me; the first time we dueled.”

Luke’s concentration on Leia is weak; he brings his attention back to the room of angry and afraid Jedi.

Jiro didn’t ask _him_ the question.

“I was the very first. We all didn’t hear about the name Vader until he wore the suit, but I was the first to meet him, when Anakin had completely left him, the first to duel him.”

Luke’s heard the story plenty of times and it is still enough to give him nightmares.

Chase clears her throat, “We all had reason to hate Vader for what he did to the Order or us personally.” She looks at Luke with narrowed eyes, “Vader’s dead, right?”

“Yes.”

Chase looks to the others in the room. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of since the Temple fell or in these wars, but none of us are planning to turn to the Dark Side like him.” She looks back to Luke, “Just because you’re someone’s son, that’s no reason for you to be more likely to become the next Vader.”

Luke appreciates the sentiment, but Skywalkers will be wary of their blood until the end of time.

“Whatever the Senate wants with you, we’re not letting them take you away from fighting Death Watch. It’s our duty to protect the galaxy from them, and we need everyone we can possibly get,” says Seddwia resolutely.

Vader’s son or no.

\----------

Mon hands Leia the datapad and her blood runs ice cold.

“ _Do you know; has someone told you?_ ” she reaches out to Luke, systems away.

Like a numb limb, she knows Luke is there, but there is no response, only a dull tingling.

“Do you know anything about this? Has Skywalker ever said anything about his father in relation to Vader? We wouldn’t give credence to it, except our codebreakers note it has Imperial tags on it dating to about the time the Galactic Republic fell. The time Anakin Skywalker was supposedly killed.”

“Lie,” hisses the voice in Leia’s head. Lie because it’s what everyone’s done. Lie for Luke, lie for yourself, for godssake, lie for Pres, for the Skywalkers to come.

“I ask of course, because you and Skywalker are close, Leia, but we’re close too, are we not?”

The Alliance before father died, the Imperial Senate, the Alliance through war, and now the New Republic; damn Mon for playing to Leia’s other half.

She is eternally pulled in two directions.

Well, she was raised a politician, and politicians bend the truth as Jedi bend the Force.

Clearly and coolly, “Darth Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, as far as Luke’s concerned. That’s why he killed him during the Battle of Endor.”

Mon looks at Leia, not seeing the lie, but not seeing the truth either. It unsettles her, but if Leia speaks first, it will all fall apart.

( _“I’m so sorry, Luke, I’m so sorry.”_ )

“It is exactly what whomever this missive comes from wants to happen: for us to second guess ourselves and to fall apart, but we are still in precarious days. But I cannot let the New Republic possibly shelter the son of Darth Vader for even a nanosecond.”

Then Mon speaks in a soft, motherly tone, “Surely you do not want to face that possibility, do you?”

Left reeling, Leia musters a weak, “No.”

Mon nods sympathetically, “I’m sending out Republic agents to the front immediately. Excuse me.”

Alone in the conference room, Leia lets out a scream of rage, knocking data pads across the table to the ground.

_Who?_ Who in all the godsdamned galaxy could have known and had to wait until _now_ to say something?

She needs to call Luke now, right now, since in her unfortunate anger, the Force fails her, but before she can locate her scattered holo, blue light fills the room.

The ghost of Anakin Skywalker stands before her, the rage in his eyes familiar. Not through the presence of Vader, but because Leia’s seen it in her own mirror.

“He knows. Don’t worry, he knows.”

\----------

The mood in the Temple is tense. It has been since all the masters but Master Leia went away, but now it’s worse.

Ona cracks her knuckles and Bant breathes too quickly when they practice dueling.

They all ask Set if it was this bad when the Republic was losing the first time.

Master Leia appeared outwardly more fraught then. Set doesn’t know if it was because General Solo was out there too, because the accusation that Darth Vader is Master Luke’s father and by extension, her’s, would terrify Set.

( _But then very few people outside the Temple know they’re brother and sister. Set has his un-Jedi-like pride in knowing he’s the only padawan who knows._ )

But it’s her outward demeanor – her presence is tense and ready to snap, as if the horrible rumor is the truth. Yet she comes to them, the Order’s padawans, between her numerous senate duties, with a grin, ready to instruct them or see demonstrations of what they have practiced.

Set wonders if they let her see her brother. None of them have seen Master Luke since he was brought back to Coruscant.

Set goes out to the entrance hall to look at the great statues of the old masters at the end of the day, blood red and orange light filter through the door.

Master Luke doesn’t talk about his father ever, although Set supposes it’s because he never knew him. Master Luke likes it when Set talks about _his_ father though; says dad reminds him of his uncle.

“That man doesn’t mean too much to me anymore. I would have killed for it when I was your age though.”

Set jumps at the voice and turns around. No one’s there.

Set looks back at the statues.

There’s a ghostly figure in front of him, looking up at the monumental ones before him. He indicates at the one next to Anakin Skywalker, “Obi-Wan hates his; I told him they haven’t made him look disapproving enough – then it’d look more like him.”

The ghost’s features are scarred, burned, and ugly; his voice is light.

Set’s own voice is uncertain, though he is surprised at the boldness of his question, “Master Skywalker, is that – is that how you looked when you died?”

The ghost shakes his head, and matter-of-factly, “Far worse – Luke can attest to that.” Then so quietly, Set imagines he hears it, “Death has been too good to me.”

It’s all true then, the mad rumors, Master Leia’s secretive, fraught attitude – Set feels ill.

Why? Why is the ghost of Anakin Skywalker ( _a name rapidly losing power with the New Republic_ ) coming to him? Is he going to make the same mistake? Are they all?

The ghost smiles wanly at Set. ( _Is it a smile? It’s hard to tell._ )

“Set, my family unfortunately will pay the price for my many crimes, but they are far stronger than I ever was. You do not need to worry for them, the Order, or yourself, though. The For –”

Set finishes the adage for him.

\----------

The line the New Republic treads is fine. Luke is held under guard, with all the appearances of living the quiet life of someone who makes daily inquires at the senate.

Everyone who knows the truth holds their silence. Although he hasn’t seen Leia once, they have arrived at the same answer their mother, Obi-Wan, and Yoda, did years earlier. Lying will do more good than harm.

Vader is gone. Burned and scatted to the winds.

The Senate does not heed the Order’s words as far as Luke knows. When he goes with the New Republic ship away from the war with Death Watch, Ahsoka asks for support.

“Soon,” is all they say.

Mon Mothma is the only one who comes to speak with him. They sit at a distance from each other in the room.

He’s never had much chance to speak to her. In the Alliance he was only really a kid pilot from the Outer Rim and then by the time he’d attained any rank, she’d shifted back to politics.

Dealing with Mon Mothma’s Leia’s territory and Luke wishes terribly she were here.

“You see the timing is suspicious, don’t you, Chancellor?”

Death Watch’s reach is increasing daily and while the Jedi have managed to see lives spared, systems have not been.

“We do, Skywalker, but the message itself does appear to be authentic – from the Emperor’s records.”

“I fought him twice; I killed him. There’s very little I could fear from an old piece of data. It’s over.”

“And what would this mean for Senator Organa?”

He jerks his head up to look at Mothma directly, “Excuse me?”

Sharply, “Skywalker, it’s less of a secret than you would hope.”

Then she speaks, less focused on the present, “I’m ashamed to admit it took me so long to realize it myself, that Leia was Padmé’s daughter, after working with her for years before she died. But when it was just the two of you rifling through every old holo and datapad from the Galactic Senate, I realized. So where does Darth Vader fit into all of this?”

“You already know.”

“Humor me.”

“The Jedi Order would not have approved of our family, but Vader tore it apart first, then the galaxy.”

“You’re avoiding the bantha in the room.”

“I’m sorry, that’s all I can give you.”

Days later, Mothma returns.

“It was Death Watch. The Order caught up to them on the far side of Bandomeer; Katan had an old Imperial hostage she was dragging around. They ran and left him behind; the Jedi took him into custody.”

Mothma’s lips purse.

“It appears he killed himself shortly after.”

Luke lets out a long exhale. ( _His gut suspects Mara’s hand in it._ )

“Since the only evidence we have clearly came from enemy combatants, you’re to go back to the front Skywalker. It is clear Katan will stoop to any means necessary, and the New Republic cannot stand by idly anymore.”

The door slides open; Han, Chewie, Lando, and R2 ready to brief and be debriefed.

Luke’s heart fills. It’s been months and free of the burden of suspicion, it’s good to see friendly faces again.

Then Leia comes in. Nothing’s stopping her from coming this time.

\----------

Even approaching two, Pres looks small in Winter’s arms.

Han sneaks the last kiss on top of Pres’s head Leia cannot bring herself to give.

They are the last to leave. Luke and Lando left weeks ago; Han and Leia kept finding excuses to stay behind, Chewie faithfully waiting with them.

The Falcon takes off smoothly. There can be no mistakes on this run. ( _And there are perks for the Falcon to receive regular maintenance and being married to a top senator._ )

Lightspeed engaged; Han spins around to look at Leia, who examines her lightsaber hilt intently.

“Planning to kill us and turn the ship around?” he half-laughs.

Please don’t, grunts Chewie.

Leia says nothing.

“He’s going to be alright.”

It’s us we should be worrying about, Chewie barks.

Though Han likes the idea of them both leaving Pres as little as Leia does, they’re needed elsewhere. ( _He hopes Pres will understand when he’s older._ )

“Death Watch was bad last time last time wasn’t it, Chewie?”

Chewie nods, but Han leans back in his seat.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

His cocky bravado is enough to snap her out of her mood.

“Couldn’t handle? If I remember correctly, you withdrew.”

“Thanks for not calling it a loss.”

Leia rolls her eyes.

Suggestively, “We could have stayed and finished them if you were there.”

Chewie begs him not to start; Leia doesn’t take the bait. Han’s disappointed, but a couple years of marriage and knowing each other even longer – he knows better.

The Falcon hums beneath their feet.

\----------

Losing ground makes most of them panic. Bo counts on Spar to keep his cool more than the others.

The New Republic comes after them harder and faster and with a vengeance, hypocrites that they are. All the bullshit “peacekeeping” the Jedi laid out is undone by unrelenting siege.

There’s nothing for it. Death Watch runs.

Bo stands once again in the City of Bone, not because it is her greatest achievement, but because it is close to her last piece bit of ground left.

The statue of Mandalore the Destroyer is the only one complete. Bo’s glad if anyone sees Death Watch’s last stand, it’s her. No one in the system’s long history is more deserving.

Bo kneels in the sands before the statue and prays for some sort of guidance. It has been the warrior’s way for so long; prayers have been meaningless for about the same time.

( _Mandalore the Destroyer was a woman of ideals. Death Watch is principled in its own way._ )

Bo tried to use an idea to bring down the New Republic and it failed her.

Wind rushes to her back. The faithful and dogmatic would take it as a sign. It is a sign – sign that enemy ships are landing en masse nearby.

Fuck it.

She rises from the ground, brushing dust from her knees.

She’ll kill Skywalker, as Vizla couldn’t kill Vader. She won’t survive the attempt, but at least she’ll have the satisfaction of knowing she’ll see the rotten bunch of them in hell.

\----------

On Endor, Leia was surprised how battle was both instinctual and a thought-process. Years in the command center afforded no opportunities on the front line ( _like they’d let her_ ), and she thought at the time it must have been her dormant Force abilities coming alive, like a long disused muscle.

Now it is natural and precise as she thinks it through the blasts from the ion cannons, the blasters, the reflections of the lightsabers, and all other manner of weaponry on the battlefield.

There is a great groaning as a building begins to topple. Though Luke is hundreds of meters away – Leia can’t quite figure out in what direction in all the din, they both get the same idea.

_Swing it around on top of Death Watch._

It seems like such absurd idea, just the two of them.

Ahsoka emerges from the fog of war nearby.

“Ahsoka!”

It is the only cue she needs.

With the Force of three ( _or more, Leia doesn’t know who Luke has with him_ ), one of Death Watch’s own buildings comes crashing down on top of others.

The din is incredible and all troops scatter. There’s no order or sense to the world around them.

Katan needs to be captured and stand trial. They’ve had flashes of her in and out of the battle, but she’s proved elusive.

Leia picks a new direction and runs.

She sees the others: Mara and Chewie fend off a group of five; Kai, Lando and Republic soldiers flank the city.

The Force tells her these are not her battles.

Luke is alone, over a dead Mandalorian, when she sees the figure lunge at him out of the shadows.

They have a lightsaber.

It misses Luke by inches. He doesn’t react quick enough; Leia must do so for him.

She leaps in, her own lightsaber over her head and it crashes down on the unknown assailant’s blade. It doesn’t crack the same way theirs do in practice parries at the Temple.

The Mandalorian breaks free of the lock and redirects her attention to Luke, but Leia does not let her forget her so quickly.

It is overzealous dueling, they use all caution against the padawans, but the Mandalorian has no formal training.

She and Luke lock blades and they move quickly, but the Mandalorian is encumbered by her armor.

Luke’s blade slips and Leia steps in his place. She draws the Mandalorian close enough that the hilts practically catch too.

Angry this woman has it in for her brother and overtired from battle, Leia throws a hard punch. It’s stupid and she feels the knuckles in her hand break, but the force of the hit is also enough to blow back the woman’s helmet.

Bo Katan.

Leia’s hand is in pain, but she breaths through it like it’s a meditative exercise. ( _Like it’s giving birth._ )

As Katan staggers upwards, thoughts fly between Leia and Luke.

_How do we capture her without getting ourselves killed? How do we signal for backup?_

They do not come to a conclusion before Katan is at them again, filled with all the rage no Jedi can carry on the battlefield.

Katan’s wised up. She knows Leia’s the weaker duelist. She bears down on Leia fast. Leia recognizes some moves and not others.

Now Luke tries to cut in on the two person duel. Katan lashes back quickly and makes contact.

Leia yells, but Luke does not. She senses no pain in him.

_It’s the mechanical hand_ , they both exhale.

Katan lets out a scream of rage and swings wildly as Luke summons his lightsaber to his remaining hand.

Another Mandalorian runs towards their fight. He readies his blaster at them and there is the bang, but it is not the Mandalorian’s blaster.

He crumples, blood running down his neck.

The loss of this solider breaks something in Katan. She turns to Luke, eyes filled with death and charges.

Luke won’t block with the left hand and Katan’s aim will be true.

Leia calls on the Force to blow Luke back to safety.

Three downward blows and Katan’s on her knees, bleeding and defeated.

“Finish it,” she rasps.

Leia does.

She drops her lightsaber.

She is sore, she is bloody; she is shaking.

Han and Luke run towards her.

“Don’t touch me!” she screams.

They stay back, but they stay.

\----------

The ugly aftermath is something Mara never stayed to witness.

Both Luke and Leia are flown off to the medical frigate ( _“Don’t steal Han’s credits” she whispers as she kisses his cheek, but he is far away_ ), the Republic army carts off the corpses of Death Watches’ leaders.

The remaining Jedi are left to see to the rest of mess.

Ahsoka weighs Katan’s lightsaber in her hand. “Aven says it’s unlike any he’s ever seen. Probably ancient.”

Mara itches to try it; Ahsoka presses the hilt into her palm. She’s glad Ahsoka knows her well.

Its energy is different. More frantic and like a true metal blade. ( _For bloodier times._ )

Mara likes it, but she will not give up the comfort of her current lightsaber.

As she switches it off, she raises her other hand to shield her eyes from the setting rising sun.

“What’s going to happen to the system now?”

A small chuckle bubbles out of Ahsoka, “Sounds like Mothma’s ironing out a deal with the Separatists to put it under some sort of mutual neutral control. I have no idea where they’ll go from there.”

The silence is unsettling.

She couldn’t look long at the reality of her destructive handiwork before, and now she finds having to look at it horrifying.

“Go.”

“Hm?” Mara quirks her head back in Ahsoka’s direction.

“You need to go be with Luke. But I expect you both to come back once the med droid’s given him clearance.”

Mara mock salutes, but her heart soars as she practically leaps to the nearest ship.

\----------

_You are not your father._

It is the mantra Leia clings to. Luke doesn’t need to say it; Han says it well over a dozen times.

Killing Katan becomes the recurring nightmare she only wakes up from when Han calls her back to reality.

Debriefings and deliberations on Mandalore’s fate drag. Leia wants to go home.

Luke tells her of when he lost control during the second duel with Vader. Tears are shed.

She watches the scars on her hand fade.

The New Republic and the Separatists squabble over the system. After months of solely being Jedi Knight Leia, Senator Organa returns.

And at long last, the Falcon’s bearings are set to return to Coruscant.

She realizes: she is her father.

She is her father because Anakin Skywalker gave her the ability to wield the Force, just as she is Padmé Amidala, who is her fortitude. She is Bail and Breha Organa, who are her verve and her tenacity. She is Luke’s compliment, and gods help her, she is Han’s rebellion.

She is always a fighter.

Upon return, Pres cries in delight and runs ( _he can run!_ ) into her open, waiting arms.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
